Monday, September 21, 2009

Sometimes I get home and look at my sink and see dirty dishes, and I go over and I wash them.

In a minute or so they are done and I go and sit down.

Then, other times I get home and I look at my sink and see dirty dishes and I say fuck you dishes.

Why would you do that to me.

Then I circle the room looking at these offensive rude disgusting beasts that are interrupting my day. Fuck you. Fucking fuck you dishes. I fucking hate you. How dare you sit there in your own filth waiting for me to do something about you. Fuck you.